Old Dog, New Tricks
by Nicholas Perle
Summary: (Divergent Future after 25) Hohenhime needs someone to carry on his legacy, and there is one mind in Central that's in the perfect position to learn.
1. Saved

An Unnecessarily Long Author's Note: Having recently rediscovered the horrible, horrible amount of wishing I did earlier in FMA that Hughes was actually an alchemist (which somehow lead to me spoiling 25 for myself... freaking internet), and realizing that the Hughes in my other story could never do alchemy, this bit was formed. It gets happy points for not including such a disturbed Roy Mustang. It's also full of alchemy-hypothesizing and pseudo-justification of "plot holes" in the first few episodes of the series. It's more of an experimental bit of writing than anything with an actual plot, but I'm proud of how it's going, so I'm posting it up. Yay! Oh, and there are a few random references to other fics in here... just take it as a small homage, because there have been a lot of great fics through the FMA section lately and I couldn't help a small tribute.

Oh! And importantly, there are spoilers here for episode 25 of the anime. It diverges from the anime at that point, pretty much. At least, I'm not sure yet if the normal things are going to keep happening in the background, because I'm not exactly sure where this is going to end up. Bear with me a bit. (-:  
  
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There was a sound like a clap, and suddenly it felt like the world had jumped two feet to the left. Stars swarmed in front of Maes Hughes' eyes as he tried to shake off the shock, but darkness crept in from the corners of his eyes, and the world faded out.  
  
A man stepped out from a dark corner of the alley. Envy stood staring, still in the form of Gracia Hughes. Maes' body lay on the ground not far from the phone booth, still breathing. He hadn't fired a shot. There was a second, almost inaudible clap and Envy was killed for the second time that night, impaled by an icicle and carried off by a monster that remarkably resembled a phone booth. The man adjusted his glasses and, with a surprising amount of strength, managed to hoist Hughes over his shoulder.

Hughes awoke in a small room, still in his uniform and feeling more than a little dazed. The sun was streaming in the window, and the sheets on the bed reflected back a glaring whiteness. Squinting and rubbing his eyes, he vaguely wondered if he'd died, and if this was the afterlife. As the rest of his senses caught up with his brain though, he slowly realized that the afterlife would probably be a tiny bit larger, cleaner, and smell less of cats. The books, he noticed, were definitely not the type that would be accepted in most mainstream concepts of the afterlife. They lined every bit of wall space in the room and covered the tables. If this was the afterlife, Isbara was certainly sulking in a corner somewhere. It took a bit of searching to even spot the door - a small break in the shelves off to the right side of the room. Sitting up, Hughes rubbed his eyes and tried to get a better grip on the situation. Immediately, he realized this was pushing the issue a bit too much. It felt like every cell in his body was just a few millimeters out of place. He felt like if he moved much more he'd fall apart, like someone had cut through him with millions of microscopic knives. It was not the most pleasant feeling to suddenly be hit with in the middle of a strange room. He closed his eyes and carefully laid back down. As he tried his best to relax, he searched his mind for the most recent memory.  
  
He'd gone to see Tim Marcoh, well aware that it was a trap. He'd expected that. He certainly hadn't expected them to be so powerful, though. Working with the alchemists in the war had brought him close to some unusual abilities, but he was certain that whatever powers they had weren't alchemical in nature. At least not directly. The ability to regenerate oneself was definitely not within the powers of alchemy. A memory surfaced, and he shuddered involuntarily, causing another stab of pain. That _thing_ that had turned itself into Maria Ross. He thought he'd killed it, and it had gotten back up... turned itself into Gracia and... that was it. There was a hazy feeling that he'd been knocked to the side by something, but that was it. And Gracia had just stood there, pointing her gun at him.  
  
Hughes hit upon the thought with a start... _Gracia_. He was shocked that she had taken so long to surface in his mind. Usually she was the first thing there when he woke up. He shook the thought from his mind, putting the transgression down to a side-effect of the haze of pain. It seemed to be getting worse now that he was fully conscious. Since he had married, this situation had always been one of his biggest fears. He'd gone out to do his job and disappeared. He had no idea where he was, or what had happened to him, or what could still happen to him while he sat in bed wondering about everything. He forced himself to sit up again, ignoring the pain. It would be best to get out of here before anyone realized he was awake. Even if they had rescued him, there was no guarantee they had done it for a good reason. Most importantly, he had to get back to his family and let them know he was alright.  
  
Biting his tongue until it bled to keep from shouting out against the pain he made it all most all the way to the door before catching his toe on a pile of books and tumbling to the ground. A small cat ran out from a corner beside the books, pawed at the man, and ran into the next room.  
  
-----  
  
In the next room over, the figure lying under his coat on the couch rolled off, kicked aside a pile of books, and stood. A black cat stared down at him from one of the shelves while an orange tabby sulked under the coffee table. He had no doubt the two had been fighting again. A sandy-coloured cat sauntered out from the bedroom, looking as concerned as a cat could look. It ran up to the man and rubbed against his legs, occasionally looking upwards imploringly. Stretching and rubbing the sleep from his eyes, the man made his way into the adjacent bedroom to check on his guest. He nearly tripped over him.  
  
The man looked down and with a sigh rolled Hughes over. There weas no way this man was going to survive if he kept doing this. His mind seemed to be on some sort of infinite loop. Wake up, discover he's not dead but possibly still in danger, try to escape, have some mishap, and pass out again. It certainly didn't help that his body was still recovering from quite literally being completely disassembled and then reassembled. It wasn't something humans were made to be able to endure, and in hindsight it probably hadn't been the best course of action. His first reaction to a threat was almost always with alchemy, though. It had been that way since he first discovered that an array was unnecessary. Without the encumbrance of chalk and the extra time it took to draw out an array, alchemy was a far more versatile weapon than anything else you could carry. The man glanced down at Hughes' wrists, marvelling at how the man could survive his job relying only on a set of throwing knives. Clearly they hadn't quite been enough, or he wouldn't have had to save him like that. Then again, people hadn't invented weapons with the immortal homunculus in mind.  
  
He'd planned to catch him before he'd even entered the building. It would have saved him so much time covering things up... coming up with the body itself had been a major pain, and had well-near exhausted him. Making a human body was no easy task, especially if it had to look real inside and out. He half-wished that Hughes didn't have such an inquisitive mind, then realized that it was that mind that he needed. There weren't many people in Central he could rely on to understand everything he had to teach, and there wasn't much time for him to take it all in, either. It was all nearing the end, things were about to hit the metaphorical fan, and he was far too old to take care of this by himself.  
  
Oh well, if desperate times called for desperate measures... He lifted the man onto the bed, shooing the sandy-coloured kitten off of the covers. He walked over to the wall of books, and pulled out a slightly dusty volume with two D's on the spine. It blended almost perfectly with the other books lining the walls until it was opened. The pages were much more worn, though they lacked the scrawled notes in the margins that nearly every other book in the room had. Some of the books were annotated to the point that the original text was no longer readable. He was rather proud of that fact. It was rather obvious that the pages of this book had been turned many times, but the words themselves had never been read. If they had, someone would have realized that it looked more like a game manual than a serious text. In the centre, however, the pages had been hollowed out to make a hiding place. The idea was so cliché the man knew that no one would think to look for what was stored there. With a smirk, he pulled what was left of the philosopher's stone out of its hiding place. He was tired of waiting for the man to heal, and with luck he wouldn't need this particular philosopher's stone any longer anyway. There would be enough for what he needed it for, at least. He looked it over, and sat it down on the small table next to the bed.  
  
Brushing his hands together lightly to create a circle, he began gathering an alchemical charge in his hands. He had learned early on that it was far more trouble than it was worth to use power directly from any sort of red stone. Controlling it could be very troublesome, and it was much easier to use the stone to simply amplify the energy. Eyes half-closed in concentration, the man reached for the stone. His hand brushed the table, finding nothing. He broke his concentration, and looked down at the papers and books. Nothing. He looked over at the bed, and in a flash his back was pressed against the bookshelves. A knife seemed to materialize from nowhere and appear at his neck.  
  
"You have thirty seconds to tell me who you are, and why I'm here." Hughes did his best to look imposing while trying to keep the pain from showing on his face. He had awakened a few seconds earlier to see the man standing by his bed, eyes half-closed and a blue alchemical aura surrounding him. The shock more than anything had forced him to react. It was crazy to wake anyone who had been in the wars in Ishbal. A few years with Elysia had begun to train the instinct out of Hughes, but out of familiar surroundings it was easy to fall back on instincts. He'd been awoken a few too many times to odd flashes, and not just the bombs outside. There had been one time that Roy had almost set his bunk on fire, though that memory was far from the front of his mind. Strange flashes were not Hughes' friends.  
  
The man shifted under Hughes' weight and a faint smile tugged at the corners of his mouth as he watched the different mental processes play themselves out behind Hughes' golden-green eyes. He was amazingly quick at getting his bearings in an unusual place. Impressive.  
  
"I'm very glad to see you're awake and functioning again," he looked straight into Hughes' eyes and let the smile show. "Since you asked nicely, I suppose I should oblige your question. I think we've gotten off to a bit of a bad start here." He reached up and, with the small amount of energy he'd kept in his fingers, alchemized the knife into a spoon, snatching it away with an almost evil smirk. "I am called the Light Alchemist. Hohenhime of Light. Most officially though, Hohenhime Elric," he offered his free hand to the now-stunned man, "It is a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Hughes, and I feel that this situation could be explained much better over a cup of tea."


	2. Might As Well

It took a great deal of effort and the help of Hohenhime's shoulder, but Hughes was able to make it across the apartment to the small kitchenette. It was the only part of the apartment that wasn't covered in books. In fact it was spotless, almost like a laboratory. He hoped it was only used for cooking, but he could never entirely trust that alchemists wouldn't randomly experiment wherever they could. True, the kitchen wasn't exactly the best place for drawing arrays, but that didn't seem to hinder Edward, and apparently it didn't hinder his father, either. Despite the stories Ed had told him of how his father had just randomly walked out on their family one morning shortly after Al had been born, Hohenhime didn't seem to be a bad man. Hughes wondered what the story behind his disappearance had been as he watched him put the tea kettle onto the stove. Had he been in Central all this time? Surely not... the military liked to keep track of every alchemist in the main city. Though, if this man had managed to save him from that homunculus, he wouldn't be surprised if he could hide from the military. The thought itched at the back of his mind that Hohenhime shouldn't be trusted completely, though. This sudden kidnapping surely didn't warrant any trust, and the man still hadn't explained a thing to him except that tea was a good idea.

Seeing that Hohenhime wasn't going to talk until the tea was served, he did his best to take in his surroundings. This room too was full of books, though the floor wasn't as covered. It looked more lived-in than the bedroom. Glancing at the pillows and sheets on the couch, he guessed that the bedroom was used more as a library, anyway. It would explain why it smelled more like cat than the rest of the place - it probably wasn't cleaned as often. Hughes looked around for any sign of the cats themselves. The small sandy kitten he'd seen in the bedroom seemed to follow Hohenhime around almost constantly. Maybe it was just hungry, though. The orange tabby kept its distance from Hughes at first, watching him and keeping an eye on the small kitten, almost like he was ready to protect it. Finally, the largest of the three, a solid black cat, watched over everything from the top of one of the bookshelves. He looked vaguely disapproving of the visitor, or maybe of the kitten's behaviour. Hughes had never been much of a cat person himself, so judging their actions was hard. They seemed to be well taken-care-of though, which spoke well for their owner. The whistle on the tea kettle blew, and the sandy-coloured kitten tore off into the bedroom, startled by the noise.

Hohenhime smiled and hummed a little as he poured the tea. He seemed to be the perfect picture of an eccentric old man. Hughes couldn't help but smile as the man set the cups down at the table, handing him a bowl of sugar and the spoon that had formerly been one of his knives. He picked it up and examined it closely. The black plastic handle had been stretched to become the handle of the spoon, the metal of the knife itself dulled and rounded out. It was a rather amusing piece of work; the sort of thing Ed had done to annoy Roy in the office. Amazingly like the sort of thing Ed was likely to do, in fact. He remembered one morning when the Colonel had come in to work only to find all his pens had been transmuted into sporks that leaked ink. Though he'd had to hide his amusement at the time, Hughes grinned at the memory and spooned some sugar into the tea. He took a sip to taste it. Lemon. Hohenhime took the seat across the table.  
  
"Well, I suppose we should get down to business." He sipped his tea straight, and leaned back a bit in his chair, balancing it on the two back legs. "I'm sorry our first meeting had to be like this, but I really had no choice in the matter. You got yourself into deeper trouble than I'd counted on much quicker than I could find you to ask this favour of you..." he laughed. "I suppose it's actually worked out to my advantage now, Brigadier General."  
  
Hohenhime checked for Hughes' reaction to his new rank, but was surprised to find none. He realized he shouldn't have been, though. Someone who had spent so many years in intelligence work would surely know how to hide his emotions. Though his face didn't show it, Hughes' brain quickly worked out what had happened. If he'd been promoted, and no one had been around to tell him, the honour must have been bestowed posthumously. Then again, wouldn't it be to Hohenhime's advantage for him to believe this? He couldn't trust him so much so early on... but something in the man's eyes reminded him so much of Ed's - the way they seemed both intense and committed, while totally sincere at the same time. Even Alphonse had managed that look through the glowing eyes of his armour. The trait must have run in the family, and Hughes had always had a soft spot for the boys. He'd gotten the impression that it must have been their father that had raised them and instilled that stubborn determination in them after he'd heard how their mother would stand and wait at the window for their father to return. Their innocence clearly came from her, but the drive must have come from elsewhere, it was obvious here in this man's eyes. And the view out the window told him he was still in Central. If the military had thought he was still alive, they'd definitely be out looking for him, though there was no sign at all on the streets of any sort of search. From the window he could see the fifth laboratory. The reminder was a cruel sort of punishment... So he was as good as dead, as far as the world was concerned. Poor Gracia... he'd have to find a way to let her know that he was still alive. It was best now though, to find out what Hohenhime had wanted with him. Obviously there was a plan behind all of this, and he owed the man his life. Sticking with his conclusion, he tried Hohenhime with the question.  
  
"Whose body did they find?" he watched the man for a reaction, and was as surprised at Hohenhime's smirk as Hohenhime had been at his stone-faced reaction to the previous statement.  
  
"Wow. I am quite amazed; you are a lot quicker than you let most people believe." He took another sip from his cup, still drinking the bitter lemon tea straight. "It was a simple homunculus." At Hughes' shocked look, he added "Not the sort you dealt with that night, no. Just a homunculus in the most technical sense of the term: a fake human. I had to create it after I rescued you, to keep them from following the trail. I have no doubt Envy will still be suspicious, but luckily I still have some power over him." The glance was subtle, but Hughes caught that for a second his eyes rested on the bell on the black cat's collar. At least, it looked like a bell. Hughes decided he would have a look at it later.  
  
"So you created a fake body... a fake me. What purpose would you have in throwing off the military, if they aren't the ones after me?"  
  
"I told you, I'm sorry it had to happen this way, but I need you for something. You are one of the few brilliant minds left in Central that hasn't been trained as an alchemist yet. Listen, things are going to get really bad really soon. I need to pass what I've learned on to someone who doesn't already have preconceived notions about alchemy. And now that you're 'dead,' unfortunately you don't have much choice. Look, don't worry; I'll let you protect the people that are important to you, just in a different way. If you go back now, they'll probably kill you, and you know it. You aren't going to be in any condition to leave here anytime soon anyway, so you might as well study. I'm sorry it had to be this way, but will you cooperate?"  
  
Hughes let the idea stir around in his mind a bit. He had always been fascinated by alchemy, but never had the motivation or patience to sit down and study it. His tendency had always been to get up and gather the information in person, which lent itself much more easily to intelligence work than alchemy. Spying on alchemists was generally boring, and you could learn about as much about alchemy from watching transmutations being performed as you could about making cakes by watching one bake. There was much more that went on beforehand that you hadn't seen. Once Roy had tried to teach him a bit of practical alchemy, but he ended up watching Roy's actions more than he listened to his actual words, and the concepts were lost on him. Roy had declared him hopeless as an alchemist, and he'd believed him. Still, there didn't seem to be a more appealing option. And suppose Roy had been wrong? With nothing else to do, Hughes had plenty of patience for books.  
  
The smile spread across Hohenhime's face before Hughes had even answered. He knew that if the man considered it, he was sold. He held his hand out to him. "Thank you, I knew you'd understand. This won't be fun, but I promise you it will be interesting. In the next month, you will learn more about alchemy than most people are able to learn in their entire lives."


End file.
